


Spoil Of War

by pcychedelic



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Blood, Death, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Game of Thrones-esque, Slavery, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-06 08:51:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15882696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pcychedelic/pseuds/pcychedelic
Summary: When your village is taken by the throne, you become the king’s spoil of war.





	Spoil Of War

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:  
> This is a work of fanfiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents may represent real entities, but are used fictitiously as a product of the author's imagination; this work does not mean them any harm or offense. This work is the intellectual property of the author and it, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.
> 
> Content Warning(s):  
> This work deals with heavy material such as, but not limited to, violence, slavery, blood, and death (think Game of Thrones). Please read with caution.
> 
> Author's Note:  
> Hello! This is a one-shot I wrote for [EXO Writers Network](http://exo-writers-net.tumblr.com/)'s fic event, #SmuttyEXO18. Huge thanks to my partner, [Illi](http://weirdsofagirls.tumblr.com/), for the prompt! ♡

The royal kitchen was your least favorite room in the Yang Keep, not that you had much fondness for the castle to begin with. For some reason, something was always cooking in the kitchen throughout the day, even after the king and the other lords and ladies had finished eating. The constant boiling and frying from the pots and pans filled the room with hot steam and smoke, making your skin crawl from the memory that the sweltering, humid air induced.

What seemed like a normal quiet night in your village soon became your worst nightmare. You stirred from your sleep because of the sudden hotness in your hut, your cot drenched in sweat as you slowly got up. Mind still clouded with sleep, it took you a while to notice that the scorching heat was not because of the onset of summer, but because your village was on fire.

The scene that greeted you the moment you left your hut was one that you would never forget, a horrific sight seared at the back of your mind: the village field was drenched in red and the air carried the stench of death, lifeless bodies lying on the grass as blood from them seeped onto the ground.

Tears stained your cheeks, your body violently shaking as you made your way through the maze of corpses, desperately searching the field in the hopes that your father was still alive.

You felt something cold and sharp sting the skin on the back of your neck. You had held blades from the moment you could walk, so you would know when one was being pointed at you. “Halt,” a frigid voice said behind you.

Without lowering his sword, the soldier came around until he was in front of you. His eyes landed on the jade amulet hanging from your neck. “You’re the chief’s daughter?” He asked, though his tone implied that it was more of a statement than a question.

Your necklace gave it away, so there was no point in denying the obvious. “Yes,” you managed to answer despite the trembling of your throat. “What have you done with my people? Where is my father?”

Instead of answering, the soldier swung his sword at your neck, cutting the string of your amulet and scraping the skin just above your collarbone. Blood was beginning to drop from where he had cut you, but you felt nothing; you were stunted by fear and you just stood there stiffly as the soldier bent down and retrieved the necklace that had fallen on the ground.

A team of riders then arrived, the sound of hooves against the dirt filling the air. That was when you noticed the sigil embossed on the riders’ armor and sewn on the banners carried by the bannermen—an iron ram with a crown atop its head. The soldier that cut you also had the same symbol on him. That only meant one thing: they were Zhang soldiers.

“All the women and children have been rounded up,” said the rider at the forefront. “They will be shipped to Gengxin Bay first thing in the morning. But… I guess we missed one.”

The soldier in front of you shook his head, raising your jade amulet in his fist. “This one will not be sold to slavers. She is Chief Liang’s daughter. The king will be pleased when he sees what spoil of war we’ve brought him. He’ll find some other use for her, I’m sure.”

 _Spoil of war_.

That is what you are now.

“The king has returned from his hunt,” said Jihae, the head handmaiden, breaking your train of thought. “You know what to do.”

Sighing, you nodded.

It had been months since you were brought here, but you could count with your fingers how many times you’ve seen the king in the flesh. He was often out of the castle, out on “hunts” as the other stewards called it, but you knew that the king was going to war meetings with the other high lords of the houses under the crown regarding the ongoing war against the Huangs. At least that was what you heard when you eavesdropped from soldiers guarding the king’s chambers as you made his bed the other night.

The mental image of the king and the other lords sitting around a table and planning which village in the Xinzou peninsula they were going to attack next made your blood boil, the memory of that horrific night when you woke up to the sight of your own village burning resurfacing in your mind.

It was always the smallfolk caught between the nobles’ wars. It was always the smallfolk’s blood spilled on the battlefield. It was always them. It was always you.

If only you could do something about it.

You made your way to the king’s chamber at the heart of the castle, carrying a tray of hot food from the royal kitchens. The king had missed supper tonight, and it was your job to make sure he ate nonetheless.

When you made it to the wing where his room was, you were surprised to see that the guards that usually never left beside the doors were gone. Where were they?

“Your Grace,” you said through the door. “It’s your handmaiden. I’ve brought your supper. I would knock, but… my hands are full and your guards aren’t here.”

The door suddenly swung open, startling you. The king came into view, but you kept your head and gaze down. Jihae said that if you wanted to keep your neck, you have to avoid the gaze of the king or any other noble unless they said otherwise.

“Come in,” the king ordered.

You’ve never heard him speak before. His voice was soft and gentle, a stark contrast to what you were expecting. He almost sounded like how a good person would, but you knew what this man was capable of. He was the kind of man that wouldn’t hesitate to order his army to kill innocent people and burn entire villages to the ground for the sake of war. You reminded yourself that your father and the rest of your people died because of him.

“You can stop lowering your head now,” he said as you set up the table. “It’s making me uncomfortable.”

You nodded faintly and looked at him, only to be greeted with the sight of his bare torso through his open robe. Heat creeping up to your cheeks, you immediately averted your eyes.

When you were done arranging his supper for him, you faced him and bowed, and quickly turned around to leave the room.

“Wait,” he said. “You can stay here until I finish.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” you replied despite the harsh beating of your heart against your chest. You didn’t want to be in a room with the man responsible for your anguish, but you had to follow his orders if you didn’t want your head to end up on a spike.

As he sat down to eat, you stood opposite him, hiding your hands behind your back so that he wouldn’t see them trembling.

“Have you eaten?”

The question caught you off guard, and you instinctively looked at him to answer. “Y-yes, Your Grace.”

He hummed quietly as he nodded, and then said nothing after that.

You watched him as he ate, your first good look at the great Yixing of House Zhang. For all it was worth, he looked like how a king should—elegant, manly, and as much as you hated to admit it, he was beautiful. Despite his mellow voice, he radiated a powerful aura that made your knees buckle under your weight. Something about him was terrifying.

You learned from Jihae that he had been king since he was only eighteen, and he still looked like he was in his late twenties, which meant that he would remain king for a very long time.

But that also meant that more villages would be destroyed should there be another war in his reign, the very reason why you were standing inside his chambers right now.

The current war began when House Huang defected from the crown, claiming their autonomy over the Xinzou peninsula with their lord, Zitao, calling himself the King in the South. In retaliation, the Zhang Army stormed the south to reclaim the region and make Huang Zitao bend the knee.

But the war was still far from over—more people were about to die, more villages were about to be destroyed, all because of noblemen and their thirst for power.

“You look like you want to say something,” King Yixing said, snapping you back to reality.

“Oh, I w-was just…” You stammered, racking your brain for an excuse. “I was just wondering why there are no guards outside your chamber tonight, Your Grace. They used to be stationed outside even though you weren’t here.”

Yixing took a sip of his dark ale. “I sent them away,” he explained. “All they do outside anyway is gossip about the matters of the crown, matters that shouldn’t concern them. I don’t want imbeciles guarding my chambers. Better nothing than them.”

If there was no one guarding his room anymore, then…

Your eyes fell on the knife Yixing was holding, and an idea grew inside your mind.

—

You bid your time before you went on with your plan.

You had to earn the king’s trust, so you continued to do what you had to do as his handmaiden. But without realizing it, you soon stole glances at him when he wasn’t looking, wondering how someone as gentle and soft-spoken as him would be a man that didn’t care whether the smallfolk died in his wars. You often found yourself thinking of what he truly felt about the senseless fighting, of all the horrible things happening to the country he was supposed to lead, when he was nothing but kind to you since you served him supper that night.

But the sound part of your head reminded you that if it wasn’t for him, you would still be in your village living your simple life with your family and your people, away from the squabbles of the rich and noble. You wouldn’t be a mere spoil of war.

Your father taught you that all important things must be done when the moon was full, as was the tradition in your village. Your people worshipped Chang’e, the goddess of the moon, and so all significant occasions were celebrated during the full moon—weddings, initiations, and what not—as it was believed that the goddess bestowed twice as many blessings that night.

Tonight, you needed all the blessings you could get, because this was the night you were going to kill the king.

When the castle fell asleep, you made your way to the king’s chambers and felt relief wash over you when you found that there were still no guards at his doors. Ever so slowly, you opened the door and hoped you were quiet enough for the king not to stir in his sleep.

With a knife in your hand, one you stole from the royal kitchens, you tiptoed to his bed and looked at him as he slept. He looked even more beautiful like this, completely at peace without a care in the world, and you felt your conscience tugging at your hand, encouraging it to put away the blade you were planning to run across his throat.

But this had to be done. If he died, it would be the last blood to be spilled in this meaningless war.

You held the knife against his throat as you gently climbed onto the bed, straddling him with your thighs. You had to be quick and be done with it; if he woke up, you wouldn’t stand a chance against his strength even if you knew how to fight.

The blade shook in your hands, your heart about to burst inside your ribs. Why are you having such a hard time doing this when you’ve planned this moment weeks ago? What was making you second guess?

“Do it,” Yixing said, his eyes still closed.

Without lowering the knife, you asked in a trembling voice: “Aren’t you afraid, Your Grace?”

His eyes fluttered open, a lazy smile resting on his lips. “You’re about to slit my throat and you still have the heart to call me ‘Your Grace’,” he said. “Everyone dies, today or a hundred years from now. What does it matter?” He grabbed your hand and pushed it further toward his neck. “Do it while I’m still allowing you to.”

He knew that he was at your mercy, and yet he was still making no attempt to stop you from cutting him open. Wasn’t that the kind of man you would want to keep alive?

“You murdered my people,” you whispered, but you were reasoning with yourself as much as you were with him. “You burned my village to the ground. You sold the women and children as slaves at Gengxin Bay. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t end your life right here, right now, when you’ve done all those monstrous things. Who knows what more you will do?”

The smile didn’t vanish from his lips, his gaze still locked on yours. “I wasn’t the one who ordered those things. All I said was to reclaim the villages in the Huang stronghold, but the Hand of the King had other plans.”

“Liar,” you spat, tears now stinging your eyes. “Why should I believe you?”

“The mere fact that you’re listening to me right now proves that you somehow have trust in me,” he countered. He then grabbed your arms and flipped both of you around, so now that you were the one being straddled. “You should’ve killed me when I gave you the chance. But I guess there’s a reason why you’re having second thoughts.”

He was right.

Yixing’s lips crashed against yours, and without thinking, you simply let him. His left hand found its way to your thigh, riding your dress up until your stomach, sending waves of fire through your entire body. The knife then fell from your hands with a loud _clank_ onto the floor, the blade and your plan completely erased from your mind as the king kissed you languidly and traced your curves with his soft hands.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, the same neck that you were about to cut open just a few moments ago before he turned the tide and kissed you instead, and you were almost glad that it came to this rather than that.

The king took off his half-open robe and threw it somewhere around the room, all without his mouth leaving yours, and then proceeded to rip your dress off of your body. When you were all but skin and flesh, his lips transferred to your breasts, sucking at them until your nipples were hard and your mind was clouded with pleasure.

“Yixing…” You moaned.

His smug smile was back. “What, no ‘Your Grace’ this time? Just Yixing?”

You began to say something, but your response was replaced with a sharp intake of breath when he began sliding the tip of his cock in and out of you and started spreading your slickness all over. The teasing sensation made you arch your back in order to feel more, to feel him, to feel everything. But the king had other plans.

“You’re not getting it _that_ easy.”

He pulled his tip away from your entrance and you whimpered at the emptiness that followed. He went to lay down beside you, ordering you to get on your knees in front of him and make his cock yours.

You did as you were told, licking his length all the way from its base up to the tip before slowly coating it with your mouth, slightly gagging as its head reached the back of your throat. The king groaned loudly, eliciting a smirk from your lips. You continued your push and pull, sucking sloppily at his staff until it was quivering inside your mouth. With one last lick to his slit, you let go.

Yixing’s eyes were now filled with a darkness that you couldn’t describe.

“Stay there,” he growled.

Wordlessly, he got up from where he was laying down and went behind you. He slapped your ass with such force that it should have hurt, but all it did to you was make you wetter than you already were.

His fingers roamed around the area where he had struck you, his touch cooling the flushed skin.

“You’re good at taking orders,” he said. He leaned closer so that his lips were now brushing against your ear, his proximity making the skin on your neck tingle with anticipation. He then whispered, “But let’s see if you can take me.”

He slapped your ass once more before aligning his tip at your entrance, pushing slowly and then all at once, making your hips buckle and your legs wobble at the sudden feeling of fullness from his cock.

He stayed still for a moment, as if gauging if you were ready for him, and when you clenched around his member, he moaned wildy and squeezed your ass one last time before pounding relentlessly into you, sending the entire bed quaking.

You whimpered against the pillows as your hands clutched the sheets so tightly that your knuckles were now turning white.

“I won’t last long when you’re this tight,” he rasped, his jagged voice sending shivers down your spine.

He fucked you hard, again and again, your moans and mewls getting lost in the overwhelming sound of skin slapping against skin. You could feel pressure building up in your hips, and it seemed like you weren’t going to last long either.

Yixing’s thrusts became more and more irregular, and one particular push sent you over the edge without warning, and you screamed so loudly that you doubted that no one heard it.

“That’s right,” Yixing grunted. “Wake the whole castle up and let them know how good I’m fucking you right now.”

His words tipped you over even more, blinding your vision with white hot pleasure as you continued coming all over his cock. He continued ramming into you despite all of it, your nerves flowing with oversensitivity the longer he stayed inside of you.

“Please…” You begged. You couldn’t take any more, but at the same time you wanted him to keep going and going and fuck you into senselessness.

With one last thrust, hot spurts of his cum exploded inside you, filling your core even further. Yixing dropped his weight on top of you without pulling out, his breaths coming out ragged as he struggled for air. When he recovered, he kissed your temple and then rolled over to your side.

You were still coming down from your high, your mind still somewhere up in the clouds from the pleasure that the king gave you.

He rested onto his side and looked at you, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face. “You should’ve killed me when I gave you the chance,” he whispered. “Because now I’m never going to let you go.”

Instead of answering, you kissed him deeply.

Perhaps being a spoil of war wasn’t so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Terms used:  
> 1\. _Spoil of war_ \- any profit extracted as a result of winning a war or other military activity  
>  2\. _Handmaiden_ \- a female servant  
>  3\. _House_ \- a family or family lineage, especially a noble or royal one  
>  4\. _Smallfolk_ \- common people at the bottom of the social ladder  
>  5\. _Hand of the King_ \- the most powerful appointed position in a kingdom, second only to the King in authority and responsibility
> 
> Thank you for reading until the end! Say hello: [Tumblr](http://pcychedelic.tumblr.com/) / [Twitter](http://twitter.com/pcychedeiic/)
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting what I do by [buying me a coffee](https://ko-fi.com/pcychedelic). ♡


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